Rick Calhoon: and the Town Full of Evil Cannibals

By David Edward

Epic Shared Universe!

Join five award-winning authors as they spin stories of incredible adventure, intrigue, and discovery in a newly launched shared universe.

Introducing "Rick Calhoon and the Town Full of Evil Cannibals" - a gripping and heart-pounding novel by acclaimed author David Edward. Get ready for a thrilling adventure that will keep you on the edge of your seat from start to finish.

In this captivating tale, follow Rick Calhoon, a seasoned cowboy with a dark past, as he uncovers a chilling mystery in a seemingly normal town. But as he delves deeper into the investigation, he discovers that the town is hiding a horrifying secret - its residents are not what they seem.

As Rick races against time to unravel the truth and save the town from its sinister inhabitants, he must confront his own demons and face challenges that push him to the brink. With relentless action, bone-chilling suspense, and unexpected twists, "Rick Calhoon and the Town Full of Evil Cannibals" will keep you captivated until the very last page.

Fans of gripping thrillers, horror, and mystery genres will be hooked by David Edward's masterful storytelling. This book is a must-read for those who crave heart-stopping suspense, unforgettable characters, and a plot that will leave you breathless.

Don't miss out on this thrilling ride into the depths of darkness. Get your copy of "Rick Calhoon and the Town Full of Evil Cannibals" now and prepare to be mesmerized by a tale that will haunt you long after you turn the final page.

Set in the American Wild West of the 1880s, each book series is its own unique story in the author's distinctive style: all connected in a common time and place, with shared events and characters.

Each series starts on its own, covering events in Texas, Kansas, Colorado, New Mexico, and Utah. The more significant events of the universe begin to shape each journey as things progress. We start with a mystery, a snake oil salesman moving about the west, offering an elixir that might actually work.

Who is the stranger, and where does he get this magical green liquid from? Why do people seem to react differently to it, and why are some towns left prosperous while others slide into ruin after his visits?

The story begins with David Edward's New Western Book #1: Rick Calhoon and the Town Full of Evil Cannibals. Followed by Chad Miller's trilogy of novellas: Cerberus books one, two, and three. Then M.P. McDonald's The Great Swarm. Followed by a new series from best-selling Author Barb Jones; and another new series from writer and film producer Neil Chase.

Finally, each author will continue adding books to their series as the story progresses.

If you are looking for an epic story that spans multiple authors and characters that will be presented with numerous books over several years, then start reading the Barter Wars Shared Universe now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frequency99, Inc
• Release date: Sep 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223544999

David Edward

D. Edward served as a Special Agent in the US Army in the 1980s and 1990s and is a veteran of multiple overseas combat tours. He was the Special Agent in Charge of the 1990 Panama Canal counter-terrorism threat assessment report to the US Congress. Edward is a graduate of the United States Army Intelligence School where he studied advanced HUMINT (Human Intelligence) and battlefield counterintelligence; also completing training at the Jungle Operations Training Center in Panama, Central America. He holds advanced degrees in engineering including a Ph.D. from NCU, three related M.Sc. degrees (MBA, MSIT, MSIM), and has an undergraduate degree in business (BSBA). His books typically reach the Amazon Kindle top 10 upon release in their genre. 'End of Reason' was his first work to reach #1 on Amazon in its category, on June 22, 2021. 'Unreasonable' reached #1 as a pre-order and held the spot for over a month upon release. You can follow his publication schedule here: d-edward.com or email him at his first name, the at sign, the first three letters of the word Florida, a dot, and the word cloud. He did have a Twitter account but then he thought it was stupid so he canceled it.

Book preview

Epic Shared Universe!

Join five award-winning authors as they spin stories of incredible adventure, intrigue, and discovery in a newly launched shared universe.

Set in the American Wild West of the 1880s, each book series is its own unique story in the author's distinctive style: all connected in a common time and place, with shared events and characters.

Each series starts on its own, covering events in Texas, Kansas, Colorado, New Mexico, and Utah. The more significant events of the universe begin to shape each journey as things progress. We start with a mystery, a snake oil salesman moving about the west, offering an elixir that might actually work.

Who is the stranger, and where does he get this magical green liquid from? Why do people seem to react differently to it, and why are some towns left prosperous while others slide into ruin after his visits?

The story begins with David Edward's New Western Book #1: Rick Calhoon and the Town Full of Evil Cannibals. Followed by Chad Miller's trilogy of novellas: Cerberus books one, two, and three. Then M.P. McDonald's The Great Swarm. Followed by a new series from best-selling Author Barb Jones; and another new series from writer and film producer Neil Chase.

Finally, each author will continue adding books to their series as the story progresses.

If you are looking for an epic story that spans multiple authors and characters that will be presented with numerous books over several years, then start reading the Barter Wars Shared Universe now!

RICK CALHOON

and the town full of Evil Cannibals

CHAPTER 1

Idaho Springs, Colorado, 1875

Isat back and watched the crowd. No one knew me here, and I didn’t recognize anyone I knew. This was a busy place, busier than what I was used to, anyway. It’s what I get for coming back to civilization.

I wouldn’t have returned but for the death of my business partner, Archibald Bigs. Most people called him Archie; I called him A.B., his initials.

A.B. was the most formidable man I had ever known, and he was brilliant. Crafty, some would say. I watched him get himself into trouble and out of it using basically the same sets of skills.

But all that was over; now I had a choice to make. A.B. fell out from the Wyoming Mafia, not to be confused with the Italian Mafia from back east. I knew a bunch of those boys when I used to be civilized. They were cutthroat, but you could reason with them.

The Wyoming gents tended to not be so level-headed. If you didn’t have red hair, dropped your B’s, rolled your R’s, and completely ignored half your H’s, they would just as soon shoot you in the back than watch you walk away. That's how they got old A.B., shot him from behind with an eight-gauge shotgun. A coward's weapon. Blew his heart clean out the front of his chest, followed pretty quickly by the rest of him. The damn thing basically turned him inside out.

I wasn’t there, of course. If I had been, I suspect both me and A.B. would be six feet under now, not just him. Well not six feet, I only dug the hole maybe three feet. A.B. wouldn’t care. It was like trying to bury a bowl of soup. I would never have even known it was him if the locals hadn’t told me. Had to identify him by his hat.

I hadn’t bothered to look at the name of the saloon I was currently in when I walked up to it. I knew this town was Idaho Springs, which I always thought was funny, given it’s in the Colorado Territory, not in Idaho.

Heck, Colorado was supposed to become a state next year. Just seemed confusing to call a place a name that it ain’t.

I was on my third shot of some brown liquid the Barkeep gave me when I said the word whisky to him.

Mostly the definition of whisky was universal, at least in my experiences. But I guess back here in civilization, I had to remember to worry about what A.B. used to call specifics compared to what most people deal with, which he called generalities.

I was getting a slight buzz and just starting to forget about missing A.B. when a group of loud red-headed men entered the saloon. They were having a good old time, a private party. The whole mood of the place changed.

After several minutes of general commotion and hoopla, the group, five men total, started to walk to the stretch of the bar I was sitting at. As soon as they began to move, the Barkeep came up to me with a real sense of urgency.

Friend, he said in a low voice. He even lowered his head a bit to make the point which looked funny from such a big man. You’re sitting in the Bossman’s seat. Take your drink and move to a table – he made a minimal motion with his hand that I could see but no one else could – over there. I’ll send another whisky on the house. Best way to avoid trouble for both you and me.

When God closes a door, he opens a window, I thought. The Barkeep had me on a tab. I didn’t have any money. I was just starting to get curious about what I was going to do about the societal implications of living above my means when suddenly, the solution dropped right into my lap.

Two more whiskies and you clear my tab, I stated firmly, throwing back what was left of the suspicious-colored brown stuff, watching the barman’s eyes dance between the approaching group of redheads and me.

He didn’t even debate with himself. Fine, he said, reaching across the bar and pushing me off my stool. Go to the table now. Go on, git! he said the last part loud enough that everyone in the place could hear him clearing the Bossman’s spot.

When I stood up, my foot caught the edge of the bar’s base, and I stumbled. It made me look a lot drunker than I was. I recovered and walked over to the little out-of-the-way table. It was actually a good spot. I sat with my back to the wall and had a view of the whole place.

After the Bossman sat on my stool, I watched the Barkeep reach under the bar and bring up a pristine labeled bottle, not the label-less brown bottle with no stopper from which he had been serving me.

I watched the bright clear-brown liquid pour out into a small clean glass. Bigger than a shot glass. I eyeballed my little glass. It was dirty, and the liquid in it only resembled whisky by association. They were both wet, after that, all bets were off.

Whatever I was drinking had me buzzed, but not drunk. Watered down content probably, which this time was a benefit. If I had been more drunk, I would have certainly confronted the Barkeep and made a show of starting a fight with the red-haired cowboy wannabe Bossman sitting in my spot.

It would have indeed been the end of me, and I would have known it going in and not cared. But I wasn't that drunk, so I didn’t get up and complain. I just watched. Over time I realized that the barman had not brought over our agreed-upon compensation for my adherence to the aforementioned local norm of not sitting in the Bossman's spot.

A.B. would have already handled this. He would have beat up the redheads and probably already put the squeeze on the barman for a healthy skim off the nightly take. I knew the routine, and I was just as big and just as bad as A.B., but I hadn’t yet decided if I wanted to continue my current profession sans A.B. or if this were God opening yet another window for me. 

I wasn’t a rookie; with all these Godly-opened windows there was a proverbial draft. Which, of course, just meant more work for me to make sure the window I ended up picking went somewhere good.

Eventually, two more tough-looking redheads came in, making an apparent quorum. The barman rousted another fella off his stool. This was a little guy who had an eye that kind of wandered around on its own. He also blinked a lot, like there were more problems with the eye than just its independent nature. Little Blinky didn’t take it as well as I did. Still, the barman was in a hurry. He eventually thrust a half-filled open brown bottle into Blinky’s hands and pointed him in my direction.

Blinky said something that made the barman point again. Whatever was said, it moved Blinky, who turned and headed toward me. I assume he was looking at me, but it was kinda hard to tell with the renegade eye and all.

Blinky stopped about a foot from the table. He was blocking my view. When he stopped, he said, Barkeep says you get two pours from this bottle. Mind if I sit down?

Blinky was irritated, but not at me. He wasn’t carrying. He looked like a mine worker. Had the dark coal under his fingernails and on the edges of things. Would take weeks to get it all off you if you bathed most of those days. Blinky hadn’t even been trying.

After a few more moments of comfortable silence, I couldn’t let myself pass up a chance for information. You got a name?

He turned from watching the same show I was. Names Bob, he extended a hand, and I reached over and shook it.

You local?

Ha! Blinky Bob turned around, so I was now looking at the back of his head.

That ha yes, or ha no? It wasn’t even that I was annoyed; it was just that there were some social norms that set certain tones and required specific posturing. More of A.B.’s philosophy, I guess.

I been here a while if that’s what you’re asking. Worked for Heavy Freight for the past five years.

I knew Heavy Freight; it was a company with some patents around ore refinement or something. They popped up in most of the Colorado Territory boom towns and did the hard work, the initial ore extraction from the rocks. They were basically middlemen. They didn’t mine the ore and didn’t transport it for sale, but they did pretty much everything else in between.

Worked? I said.

Blinky Bob turned around again to look me in the eye. Well, one of his eyes did; the other was involved in some table pool game with his nose and ear.

Ya, that’s right, he was indignant for some reason.

I changed the subject to what I really wanted to know. I didn’t need Blinky’s whole life story to ask him a few questions.

What’s got these Irish so excited? I asked.

Them are the O’Brian boys. The older looking one in the middle is their pa.

Uh hu, I said, sounding studied. What are they celebrating, someone's birthday?

Ha! he said again. They been trying to branch out on their own. Got themselves a claim up just north of Empire.

Empire? I knew most of the names of most of the places around here but had never heard of Empire.

Ya, Blinky blinked a few times.

He was working the bottle pretty good, but he did have manners. Whenever my little glass was near empty, he reached over and refilled it.

He continued. Empire is about ten miles up the mountain and west some. Got a big contingency of Gypsies living there. Not much of a town, not like Idaho Springs, that’s for sure. They got them a couple saloons, a crappy hotel, some kind of lodge for masons, or something like that. Things are just getting started, no homesteaders, nothing flat up there to homestead on.

Claim gonna yield?

They think so, he said, half turning back to indicate the full-bore party now going on at the bar.

I thought for a few moments. I take it something happened? Some event that makes them think they have good fortune?

Ha! he said now a third time. It might be the man’s catchphrase. They are so happy because they just killed the sheriff up there in Empire. Now there is no one between them, their claim, and running the whole of the town.

Something in my brain clicked. I didn’t yet know what it was, but now, looking back, I realize that this was the moment I changed from path A to path B. I see that very clearly in hindsight.

West and north? I asked.

"Ya, take the main road west. After about six miles, take the right-hand fork. You have to get across